Free The Dead of Summer by Mari Jungstedt

fairly far along from what I understand. She asked if we could do the interview on the phone, but I explained that wasn’t possible; we need to see her in person. Apparently she has a hard time getting around; she said something about pelvic girdle pain.’
    ‘If she’s about to give birth, she probably has other things on her mind besides our investigation, but of course she might have seen something,’ said Jacobsson. ‘I’d be happy to go out to Kyllaj; I haven’t been there since I was thirteen. But I can’t make it today. Find out if she noticed anything out of the ordinary, and we’ll have to make do with that for the time being. By the way, what was she doing on the Fårö ferry at four in the morning?’
    ‘She said that she can’t sleep at night now that she’s pregnant and it’s so hot, so she likes to drive around and take a look at the countryside when there’s no traffic. She hasn’t lived here very long. And it’s still light almost all night long.’
    ‘That sounds a bit odd, but I’ve heard that pregnant women can come up with all sorts of weird ideas. What about the third car, with the horse trailer?’
    ‘It belongs to a farmer on Fårö. His son had gone over to the mainland to buy a horse, and he arrived by the night boat from Nynäshamn. The family has run their farm on Fårö for many years.’
    ‘Darn it.’ Jacobsson spun her chair around. ‘I had high hopes the perp would turn out to be someone on the ferry. But I suppose that would have been too easy. How often do we run into someone who’s as observant and has such a good memory as that captain?’
    ‘But we don’t have to give up hope yet. We still have to interview the passengers.’
    ‘Sure, but the most likely scenario is that Peter Bovide’s killer was already on Fårö on the morning of the murder, meaning that he had slept there overnight. And we can’t rule out the possibility that he’s still on the island. Let’s keep checking everyone leaving on the ferries for a few more days.’

JACOBSSON HAD JUST finished a phone conversation with the fraud division, asking them to look into the finances of Peter Bovide’s company, when she heard voices out in the hall. Her colleagues from the NCP had arrived. She smiled to herself when she recognized Martin Kihlgård’s bellowing voice mixed with the laughter and happy shouts of the others. As soon as the inspector made his appearance in the corridors of police headquarters, the mood always improved considerably. The mere sight of him brought smiles to the faces of his co-workers. Martin Kihlgård was close to 6 foot 3 inches tall and he weighed well over 220 pounds. He never bothered to comb his hair, which stuck out in all directions in the strangest way. His eyes were big and round, giving the impression that he was staring attentively at whoever he happened to be talking to.
    ‘Hi, Karin,’ he exclaimed heartily when he caught sight of his significantly smaller colleague. A foot shorter and weighing only half as much as Kihlgård, she practically drowned in his embrace.
    ‘Hi, it’s great you’re here.’
    Jacobsson returned his bear hug as best she could, glimpsing several more colleagues from Stockholm standing behind the huge inspector.
    The entire investigative team immediately gathered in the meeting room. A tray of coffee and cold drinks was brought in, along with a platter of fresh fruit. Jacobsson had specifically requested a more healthy alternative for refreshments at their meetings, instead of the usual cinnamon rolls and Wienerbröd pastries. She noted with amusement the look of disappointment on Martin Kihlgård’s face.
    ‘I heard that Knutie is on holiday,’ said Kihlgård as they all sat down.
    ‘Yes,’ said Jacobsson. ‘He’s in Denmark with his family. His wife is Danish, you know.’
    ‘Lina, yes. Terribly attractive woman. And what a sense of humour. They’re a lot of fun, those Danes.’
    ‘Right.’
    Jacobsson felt a sudden stab